Chapter 79
Alexander remained silent, but the elderly butler standing behind him couldn’t hide his astonishment at the revelation.
“This necklace is the only keepsake Mrs. Kingsley left behind,” the butler explained, his voice tinged with reverence. “Years ago, she explicitly instructed that it be given to her future daughter-in-law—a symbol of the rightful lady of the house.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed in surprise. The design was uncannily familiar—identical to the bracelet her own mother had left her.
“Indeed, this belonged to my mother,” Alexander finally spoke, his deep voice measured. Instead of elaborating, he removed the necklace and held it out, his gaze steady. “Miss Sinclair, if you ever aspire to be the lady of this house, this would suit you perfectly.”
The butler’s jaw nearly dropped. Was he dreaming? His heart pounded in disbelief. It had been years since he’d seen Alexander wear such a relaxed, almost playful expression.
Since returning from his years abroad, Alexander had been a man burdened—haunted by fragmented memories and a past he rarely spoke of. The butler could scarcely recall the last time Alexander had cracked a joke.
Yet here he was, teasing Isabella as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from his shoulders.
“Sir,” the butler ventured cautiously, “you’ve never shown interest in any of the women who’ve pursued you. Why offer this necklace to Miss Sinclair now?”
The sun shone brightly overhead, but an inexplicable unease lingered in the air.
Alexander’s response was calm, unreadable. “Because Miss Sinclair matters—to me, and to Amelia.”
His tone gave nothing away. Was he serious? Or was this another one of his rare moments of dry humor?
Isabella couldn’t decipher his thoughts, oblivious to the butler’s silent wonder. Instead, she studied the necklace, her emotions churning. The craftsmanship, the design—it was identical to her mother’s bracelet.
After years of navigating the dark web, she recognized the rarity of such pieces. Could Alexander’s mother be connected to hers? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly dismissed it.
“If this is truly so precious, I can’t possibly accept it,” she said firmly. “As for the perfume collaboration, I’ll consider it in the coming days.”
Alexander didn’t press further, tucking the necklace away, though an odd sense of disappointment settled over him.
“Let’s go,” he said simply. “I’ll walk you out.”
Isabella, eager to escape the tension, hurried to her car the moment they stepped outside. Alexander watched in silence, only turning away once her vehicle disappeared from view.
When he faced the butler again, he was met with an expression of pure satisfaction—as if the older man had just witnessed his son finally discovering love.
Uncharacteristically flustered, Alexander felt compelled to clarify. “We’ve known each other for a while. It was just a joke.”
The butler merely smiled wider, his eyes twinkling with knowing amusement. One offered a priceless heirloom; the other refused it. Whatever lay between them was their business alone.
“Why explain it to me, sir?” the butler chuckled. “I understand. We’ve all been young once.” He gave Alexander a conspiratorial look. “Your taste is impeccable, but Miss Sinclair seems guarded when it comes to matters of the heart. If you wish to win her over, you’ll need to put in more effort.”
Alexander’s tone turned serious. “We’re just friends.”
Yet even as he said it, memories of that night flashed through his mind—the heat, the desperation, the way she had unraveled beneath him. The way he had lost control.
Defining what he felt for Isabella was impossible.
